Legends
by clocks-and-cages
Summary: Chat Noir is a legend, a ghost, stealing from the wealthy in the dead of night and taking the trinkets away to a secret cave in the woods. The villagers fear him and his arcane powers, avoiding the forest after dark. An encounter with a mysterious young woman by the name of Scarlet, however, makes him reconsider everything - including his purpose as Chat Noir. Robin Hood AU.
1. Chapter 1

So yes, there is a reason why I'm not updating Paper Faces as quickly, and this is it! This has been stuck in my head for a while and I'm super excited to finally be writing it. I'm trying to take some of the constructive criticism you guys have wonderfully given to me in the past and put it to good use - longer chapters and hopefully a faster romance, though I've always specialized in slow-burning relationships, so I can't promise that one. This fic will also be longer overall than Paper Faces, since it has a longer plot. Chat/Adrien may seem a little OOC in the beginning, but I promise it'll get better - I wanted to play around a little with the idea of a darker Chat Noir, one who has gone for a long time without a Ladybug to balance him out. Please review, it helps me loads and you guys are always so sweet that it's a _huge_ motivation for me to keep writing (also, bonus points to anyone who can tell me why I've decided to call Marinette's superhero form Scarlet instead of Ladybug). I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

 _dazzle me, dazzle me_

 _dazzle me with gold_

 _you'll never be what you want to be with_

 _all that money, that money_

In the dead of night, the only thing he could hear was his own breathing.

Sometimes, when he was walking the halls of the manor, he heard them whisper. The called him many things - a shadow, a ghost - but his favorite was _Chat Noir._ Those who had encountered him had spread the word of how they had seen him with their own eyes, seen the ears and the tail. He grinned, a flash of white against the darkness, as he imagined what they must have thought of him. They'd probably believed they'd seen some kind of demon. He much preferred Chat Noir. He'd even taken to using the name himself.

Hovering in the branches just above the road, Chat felt as if the the entire world was waiting along with him. An occasional breeze danced through the leaves around him, bringing the smell of dandelions and sweet summer along with it. He was happy for the warmth even if it made him sweat beneath his black suit. It was better than the winter months, when he had no leaves to hide him in the trees and was forced to crouch in the snow behind crumbling walls along the side of the road, biting his tongue to keep his teeth from chattering. Even the cover of night could not hide him in the winter, when the world was draped in nothing but white. He much preferred the warmer months, even if they raised a stench like no other back in the village.

His ears twitched when he heard the distant clomp of hooves. His claws shot out and his lips twitched up into a crooked smile, every muscle going tense in anticipation. He whispered, so softly it was nearly carried away by the breeze. "Cataclysm." The darkness bloomed against his palm like a flower and it felt dangerously similar to holding hands with an old friend.

(Sometimes Plagg would warn him that his abilities were originally meant to be used for good. He would always quickly retort that they made him good _money_ , and that was the end of the conversation.)

As soon as the carriage came into sight Chat dropped from the trees, landing soundlessly. The driver saw him, opening his mouth to shout, but it was too late. With one swipe of Chat's hand one of the front wheels rotted away and deteriorated, causing the entire carriage to dip one way and the horses to buck in alarm. He smirked as the older, balding man was thrown from his perch on front and landed with a soft thump on the ground. He was still conscious, but he pretended otherwise and that was just fine with Chat. It made his job easier.

"Elric?" Chat grimaced at the sound of the voice. _Female._ "Elric, what's going on?"

He hesitated. When no other male voice rang out to accompany hers his ears drooped slightly. He hated this kind of situation more than any other, but he'd already gone to the trouble of breaking the wheel. Chat heaved a sigh before swinging effortlessly through the thin fabric veiling the carriage's window. The woman inside pulled back with a gasp, clutching her hand suddenly to her chest. Chat guessed she'd just been reaching to pull back the curtains. The carriage was cramped, but he casually fell back against the seat opposite of her and shot her his most charming grin, pretending he didn't notice the way she was shaking. "My most _sincere_ apologies, but I'm afraid this particular road has a tax."

The woman - more of a girl, really - stared at him. She had wide green eyes and small lips that were pursed together, her brown hair combed back severely into a painful looking hairstyle. "A w- _what?_ "

"A tax." If it had been a man Chat would have made his claws more visible and said something smart, but this was a lady and ladies were always to be handled with care. His mother had taught him that, once upon a time. "Just a trinket, perhaps, or gold if you have any."

"Y-you're a b-b- _bandit_."

 _A smart one, then._ Chat resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead leaning forward slightly and trying to add a little more warmth into his smile. "Such a harsh word. If I'm a bandit for taking a trinket from the rich, then what is the king who taxes peasants all that they own?"

The girl blinked at him blankly and Chat finally gave up on her, his eyes catching on the pendant at her throat. It was red like blood and glittered in the dim light against her pale skin. Reaching forward, he grasped it delicately with his claws, careful not to scratch against her flesh even as her breathing hitched with panic and she jerked away. He took the opportunity to yank it, snapping the chain and grasping it safely in his palm.

"Y-you - you can't take that!" she cried out, but he was already standing to leave. "It's been in my family for centuries!"

Chat didn't glance back at her or spare her a word, instead slipping back out through the window and leaving her to stutter into the darkness alone. His gaze was drawn down to the pendant as he moved swiftly away, dodging past the anxious horses and leaping over the driver's trembling form. There was something about it, strangely familiar in a way that made his stomach twist. He wrinkled his nose and closed his fingers around it. Familiar or not, it was worth a good sum and he fully intended on keeping it. Just as he reached the edge of the trees the ring on his finger gave its familiar warning. His eyes flickered toward it, unconcerned.

He had what he needed.

"I've tolerated you for a long time, Chat Noir, but you're beginning to push at boundaries."

Chat didn't jump - not visibly, anyway - but his heart did skip a beat. He spun around, eyebrows shooting up when he saw a girl clad in scarlet leaning up against a tree, arms folded over her chest. She was covered with black spots, making her look not unlike the spotted red beetles that he was used to seeing in the forest sometimes. How had he not heard her approach? His eyes immediately darted away, out of habit. Chat Noir may not have been a perfect gentleman, but anyone would have been startled by a woman wearing something other than a skirt. He kept his voice even, though, trying to sound casual. "Who are you, then?"

She pushed herself off the tree, and as she stepped a bit closer Chat caught sight of vivid blue eyes. "It doesn't matter." Another step forward and she was only a few feet away. Chat considered simply fleeing, but curiosity kept him rooted to the spot. "What _does_ matter, however, is that you're starting become less of a local legend and more of threat. I don't particularly care for people who terrorize this town. It's very important to me."

The pieces clicked together quickly. He'd heard of someone like her - even more shadowy and mysterious than he was, spotted only once or twice. A young woman who brought good fortune to those who needed it, though she never took credit. Unlike him, the peasants adored her. "Ah. I must be in the presence of the famous Lady Luck, then. Though I doubt that's your real name?"

She surprised him with a smile. "Just as I doubt Chat Noir is yours." She glanced over her shoulder, in the direction of the carriage. Watching her profile, Chat was startled to realize she was beautiful, her dark hair glimmering in the light while her eyes lit up with a confidence he'd never seen anywhere else. "I see you've gotten into the bad habit of stealing family heirlooms."

"Heirloom is just a nicer way of describing something old and dusty."

She raised an eyebrow. "A few coins here and there I could ignore, but this is getting out of hand."

"Oh?" Chat reached for his staff, extending it. He watched her go tense, eyebrows drawing together in suspicion, but he simply planted the base in the dirt and leaned against it. "And what are you going to do? Stop me?"

"I don't want to fight you, Chat." She left it at that and he surprised himself by not pressing the matter. "Truly, I'm not sure I even understand your actions. How is this helping anyone?"

"Helping?" His eyebrows shot up. "Who said anything about helping?"

She gestured to his ring just as it made another warning noise. "You were given that gift for a reason. To help the people. By using it to steal, you're only hurting them."

"I'm stealing from _nobles._ " Chat felt himself bristle slightly, but forced himself to keep his voice level. "They can afford to lose what I take. They have plenty more back at their lavish manors."

"Who are you to determine what they can afford to lose? What if that pendant is vital to her family history?"

"Better to be taxed your history than everything you own," he snapped back. "King John runs the peasants into the ground, and more and more nobles are supporting him every day. Are we to forget those who work our land simply because they drew the short stick in life?"

She listed her head, considering him. Her eyes caught the dim light of the moon, the blue a sharp contrast to her red mask. "Of course not. But you were given the gift to save people, not punish them."

"I'll do with it what I please."

She was silent for a moment. "I'll let you go this time, Chat, because the damage is already done. But I'm warning you now that if I catch you doing something like this again, I won't be nearly as lenient."

He was about to snap back that he didn't even follow the orders of the king, so why should he follow hers, when his ring gave its final warning. She smiled, watching him knowingly. He grimaced before turning toward the woods, swallowing down the thousands of words bubbling in his chest. "You have a strange sense of justice, my lady."

She sighed. "I'm not of noble rank. If you truly need a name, call me Scarlet."

He glanced over his shoulder. "You think I'll be seeing you in the future, then?"

Scarlet hesitated a moment, then smiled. "I hope not. But I'm afraid I know you better than that."

Chat turned back toward the woods, grinning. "In that way, yes, I'm afraid you do."

And then he was gone.

(o)

"I need you to go into town tomorrow."

Adrien looked over at where his father stood on the far side of the room, watching a seamstress as she worked. He'd been directing her for nearly an hour, and for a moment Adrien thought he was still talking to her. He was looking at _him_ , though, and Adrien gave a reluctant nod. "What for?"

"With the Lady Royse staying at the manor, the merchants will be putting out their finest goods. I need you to arrive before sunrise and purchase some new threads. Stop by the wool mill, too, while you're at it."

"Yes, sir."

And that was that. It had been that way for as long as Adrien could remember - no sentiments, no smiles. Just simple orders for him to follow. Sometimes he hoped his father had been different long ago, if only for his mother's sake. After her death he'd thrown himself into his work, eventually earning a place within the manor as the official tailor. Adrien had spent his childhood years wandering long hallways and making friends with the servant children, though he never understood why they always had to leave during the day. It wasn't until much later that his father, concerned about the company his son was keeping, impatiently explained that those children were peasants and were not to be associated with. It was then that Adrien had started to recognize the way that the manor no longer seemed so wide open and adventurous. It was then that he began to feel the stone walls closing in while his father's coldness suffocated him.

Adrien felt a flood of relief when the door finally opened. He would have been glad for _any_ company besides his father's and that of the seamstress who was always too terrified to speak a word to him. His heart lifted a little higher when he saw Lady Alya swoosh in with one of her closest friends, the timid Maid Marinette, only a step behind her. Marinette had no title, as far as Adrien knew, but she often acted as though Alya were a queen and she was her lady in waiting. It baffled him, since oftentimes she was dressed just as finely as the young noblewoman.

"Monsieur Agreste," Alya greeted, and even though her voice was respectful Adrien noticed a distinct lack of warmth. He'd talked with Alya often while she came to be fitted or order more garments, and she had a way of infusing her every word with enthusiasm. Toward his father, though, she was distant and formal. "I've been told my gowns are ready. May I see them?"

Adrien's father nodded and gestured for his son to show them to her. Adrien rose, grimacing at the stiffness in his legs, before leading Alya and Marinette toward where the gowns were hanging in a corner.

"They're beautiful," murmured Marinette. Adrien glanced at her in surprise. He'd always thought she'd had problems stuttering, which was why she so rarely spoke, but staring at the gowns her voice was steady, if somewhat soft.

Alya smiled approvingly. "They're wonderful, Adrien. As always."

"Thank you, m'lady."

The young noblewoman reached out and took the skirt of one of the dresses between her fingers. It was crimson and silky, beautiful against her skin tone. "This one reminds me a bit of that story they tell in town. The one about the woman who brings good luck."

Adrien went tense despite himself, but before he could say anything Marinette glanced at her friend in exasperation. "It's just a story, m'lady. The result of some overactive imaginations." Realizing he was listening, as well, Marinette seemed to pale slightly. "At l-least, that's what... that's w-what I've heard."

In his mind he saw those bright blue eyes, a flash of red against the darkness, a smile that made him feel a bit too warm for his liking. "I'm afraid I have to agree with Maid Marinette, m'lady. She's just a legend."

"Such a shame," Alya sighed, releasing the fabric. "It's wonderful to think about. A woman who protects the manor from harm."

Adrien fought to keep himself from smirking. If she protected the manor from harm, then what did that make him? The humor faded quickly, though, replaced by irritation as Adrien focused on the red fabric and remembered her warning. He would go out again that very night, he decided as he watched Alya admire the other gowns. There was said to be villein family in town that was becoming just a bit too comfortable, even with the higher taxes. Surely a few missing coins wouldn't hurt them too much.

Scarlet had spoken to him much like his father would, an order that she expected him to follow blindly. As if he were nothing important, just something to be controlled.

But he wasn't. And that night, whether she came for a fight or not, he intended prove that he never would be.


	2. Chapter 2

Two chapters in one week because I stayed up super late to watch the new episode in a language I didn't even understand (oops), so I had some time to work on this. Hope you guys enjoy! Also, to answer the question I posed in the first chapter, I'm building up my cast of Robin Hood characters. Chat Noir, in case you haven't guessed, is our future Robin Hood (I couldn't think of a fun way to twist his name). Ladybug is Will Scarlet, thus the nickname Scarlet instead of Ladybug, and Marinette is Maid Marian.

* * *

 _fate caught me out today_  
 _without a word to say_  
 _without a card to play_  
 _my luck has finally run dry_

Chat was careful to keep to the shadows (where he belonged) as he made his way through the sleeping town. He would have given anything for a new moon, but even gifted with a completely dark sky he would have still had to avoid the light of the torches scattered among the houses. The villagers feared the dark and unknown almost as much as they feared him. They thought a simple flame could keep it at bay, pretending not to realize that there would still be shadows and the only thing their torches succeeded in doing was blotting out the stars.

Everything was quiet. During the summer months many of the peasants slaved under the blistering sun for endless hours, and when it finally set they returned to their meager meals and rickety homes and slept like the dead. Back at the manor the nobles would have parties that would last through dawn, drinking until they could barely walk and then stumbling back to their elegant beds. He was never invited, of course, but when he was younger he and the other children would peek through open doors, listening to the music and watching the swirling colors in the torchlight.

It didn't take long for Chat to realize that he preferred the darkness and the silence.

Out in the village, the distinction between the ranking of the paupers was almost as clear as it was among the nobles. Some of the houses were mere shacks that looked as though they might be torn to shreds by the next thunderstorm. Others were sturdy and fairly large. Chat knew the one he was looking for. He'd seen it not long ago, while visiting the wool mill for his father. As he moved in its general direction he would occasionally glance back over his shoulder, waiting for Scarlet to appear. She didn't, and he wasn't sure why he didn't feel more relieved.

When he finally reached the house, he kept close to the outer wall. His ears twitched as he listened for movement within the house. A bird called from the woods and rats scuttled along the roads, but inside was nothing but silence. Chat allowed himself a brief smile, canines flashing, before he slunk toward the window and peered inside.

What he saw made him frown. The furniture was old and falling apart, the kitchen table in the far corner balancing against a chair because of a missing leg and the mat on the floor worn to shreds. The room was surprisingly bare, and Chat noticed the smallest of holes in the ceiling. He pulled back, his frown deepening. When he'd seen the family on the streets they'd been wearing the finest clothing allowed of a peasant. They were practically parading about, showing off their wealth. But as he looked closer in his mind's eye he realized that the clothing they had worn had been a bit out of style, hadn't it? And he remembered a tear in one sleeve, though at the time he'd dismissed it as them not quite noticing yet.

This family wasn't rich. They projected their wealth, but in reality they were just like his father - giving off an air of elegance while inside they were hollow and bare.

Chat wasn't sure whether he felt pity or disgust as he stepped away from the window, glaring at it and folding his arms over his chest. A few moments of silence passed before he finally heaved a sigh. "You really need to stop following me around. I'm starting to think you've taken a liking to me."

Scarlet stepped next to him, just at the edge of his line of vision. He'd heard her approach right when he noticed the broken table, the soft fall of her footsteps nearly undetectable. She'd waited and he'd let her, not giving her the satisfaction of sneaking up on him twice. A smirk tugged at his lips as he turned toward her, one eyebrow raised. She rolled her eyes in response. "Don't flatter yourself. I don't take a liking to thieves."

Chat's smirk spread out into a grin. While she may have meant it as a dismissal, it sounded to him like a challenge. He took a step closer to her and she tensed, one hand moving toward a disk at her hip, but he didn't pull out his staff. Instead he simply leaned in until his face was so close to hers that he could feel her breath fanning out over his cheekbones. "You're certain?"

She didn't back down, her blue eyes flashing as her lips twitched up into a smile. "Quite certain."

"I'd wager I can change your mind." His grin became dangerously crooked.

Her eyes darted over his face for a moment. He waited for a snappy remark that would be all the incentive he needed to close the space between them so he could finally, _finally_ have the upper hand for once. Instead, her smile faded and her eyebrows pulled together slightly. "Why didn't you steal from that house, Chat?"

He drew back as swiftly as if she'd physically shoved him away, finding a place back in the comfortable shadows. She kept her eyes on him, unaffected, and he shifted under her gaze. "They're fakes." He glanced toward the window and the empty room, grimacing. "They don't truly have any money to spare. They just pretend they do."

She tilted her head. "Why should that matter to you?"

"I only take from those who can afford to lose it."

"You're here. Why don't you just take what they _do_ have? Why do you care if they have nothing left?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What happened to your 'helping' philosophy? Shouldn't you just be glad that I _didn't_ take anything?"

She moved so that she was leaning against the house, almost next him. "I'm curious."

He looked away, down the empty road. The wind rushed between the houses, making the torches flicker and the shadows dance against the walls. "They've lost enough under King John as it is. They don't deserve to be treated the way he treats them, as if they're so worthless that he can tax them until they starve." He paused, then glanced at his companion with an arched eyebrow. "Isn't this the part where you tell me it's wrong to speak out against my king?"

Scarlet didn't look at him, instead sweeping her gaze over what they could see of the village. "I thought I made it clear that I care about these people. I'll fight against anyone who threatens them, even if that person is a king."

"Even if that person is me?"

Those bright blue eyes darted toward him for a moment, startled, but she relaxed into a smile when she saw his teasing expression. "Even if that person is you." After a thoughtful pause, she pushed herself off the wall and faced him directly. "If you care about the peasants so much, why don't you give them the money you take from the nobles?"

He scoffed to cover his surprise. "So now you're _encouraging_ me to steal, are you? Wasn't it just last night that you said I have no right to punish people?"

She took a step closer and he had to resist the urge to put distance between them, to let his head clear and free himself from the distractingly determined curve her lips and flash of her gaze. Since when was he disarmed by any woman, much less one he'd known for such a short time? He was getting soft. She was sturdy and sure, a wave beating relentlessly against the shore, but he'd weathered worse storms. "If it were me, I wouldn't be taking anything at all. But it's not me. It's you. It would seem I can't stop you from stealing, but if you're so determined to have your revenge, can I at least encourage you to do it for a good cause?"

"You think I steal for _revenge?_ " He felt anger spike in his chest, surprising him, and his eyes narrowed at her. "Just because I dislike the nobles?"

"What other reason could there possibly be?"

It took all of his willpower not to spit out the truth - that the walls of the manor had been shrinking in for years now and no one else seemed to notice. No, worse than that. No one else seemed to _care_. "There are other reasons."

She seemed to be losing her patience with him, shifting with agitation, but that was fine by him. "The people are _starving_ , Chat. Doesn't that matter to you?" A pause, and she frowned in a way that was disturbingly sympathetic. It made him want to run as far away from her as he possibly could. "It's supposed to."

"Of course it matters to me," he hissed, leaning in close and baring his canines slightly so he was sure she saw that he was no one to be pitied. "But there are other things that matter to me, too."

She held her ground for a moment, blue gaze burning as it clashed with green, before something flickered in her eyes and she suddenly drew back a step. "Get your priorities straight, Chat." Her voice was level and she regarded him with a sudden indifference, pulling the object from her hip. "I fight whoever threatens the people. Even if that person is the one who's supposed to be protecting them."

With that she tossed the object as far as she could, over the rooftop behind him. He was startled to realize a long cord was attached, and within moments she had grasped onto it and been pulled away.

He didn't bother trying to follow her. Instead he shot a glare at the hollow house before reluctantly making his way back home. By the time he arrived back at the manor the stars were already starting to fade.

(o)

" _Adrien!_ "

Adrien sucked in a gasp as he felt his entire body go suddenly cold and wet. Bolting up into a sitting position, his hands immediately flew to his chest and face, wiping instinctively at the icy water that had been dumped there. His father loomed above him and Adrien swore that the anger broiling in his eyes made him gain physical height.

"What were you _thinking?_ " The words were spat down at Adrien as if he was the most imbecilic servant his father had ever happened upon.

"I..." Adrien shoved dripping hair away from his eyes, frowning as he tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes. "I don't... I'm sorry, sir, what's happened?"

"It is _well_ past sunrise!" His father snapped, stalking away and pacing back and forth. "I asked _one_ thing of you, Adrien. One. And you managed to ruin even that."

 _The merchants. The threads, the wool mill._ It all came flooding back and Adrien felt his stomach twist, his eyes widening in realization. He hadn't just overslept - he'd completely forgotten. "Father, I didn't mean - "

"Quite frankly, Adrien, I don't care what you did or didn't mean." His father cut him off sharply, though his voice had got from hot with rage to coldly even, which stung even worse. "We are judged by our actions, not our intentions. Because of your actions, we do not have new thread or cloth. There is nothing more to discuss than that."

Adrien opened his mouth, then shut it again, furious at the way his throat felt so tight from trying to hold back tears. He was nearly a man, not some little boy, and a scolding from his father shouldn't have affected him so severely.

But it did. God, it did.

He stood without a word, not daring to look at his father as he moved across the room and out the door. His pace had been steady up until that point, but as soon as the door closed behind him he broke into a run, rounding corners so quickly he nearly slid into the walls. As he flew past empty rooms he wished hopelessly that he could get lost in the hallways he'd known since he was young, if only because then he'd be certain his father couldn't find him. Even so, he ran until he had found the servant's staircase in the very back of the manor. Breakfast had already been served, so for the time being the stairwell was empty. Adrien remained at the top, taking a few gasping breaths before leaning his back against the wall and sliding down until he was seated. He dropped his face into his arms and focused on the sound of his breathing, forcing steady inhales and exhales until he almost felt normal again.

He wouldn't cry. He _wouldn't_.

"A-Adrien?"

His head snapped up to see Maid Marinette, face paler than usual as she gazed down at him from the shadows of a hooded cloak. (Funny. He hadn't even heard her coming.) She wasn't wearing the elegant clothing he was used to seeing her in, though. In fact, her dress almost resembled that of a peasant's. Her eyes were wide with both concern and something that seemed to resemble panic, her hands fluttering around uncertainly before she finally stooped down and crouched in front of him. "A-are you okay?"

He forced a smile, but that only made her frown deepen. "I'm fine."

"What are you doing here?"

He looked around, as if realizing where he were for the first time, before meeting her gaze again. For a moment he was certain he was going to lie. He was going to come up with some crazy story and she was going to accept it and walk away and it was going to be as if nothing had happened. But there was something about the way that she was looking at him, as if his feelings were actually _important_ , and it was such a contrast to the way Gabriel Agreste had looked at him just minutes before that he couldn't go through with it. Not with her. "Hiding from the tailor."

Marinette tilted her head to the side for a moment, some of her hair falling into her face. She was pretty, Adrien noted as she shifted to sit next to him against the wall, seeming tense but not necessarily uncomfortable. "You mean your father?"

A pause. Last chance to take it all back.

"Yes."

She was quiet for a bit, and even though it should have felt awkward it didn't. "What happened?"

"I overslept and missed an important errand."

Again with the silence, but this time it was because her shy expression had quickly transformed into a look of disbelief. "That's... that's it? You forgot to run an _errand?_ "

The tone of her voice both surprised him and comforted him somewhat. She made the entire problem seem as if it weren't nearly as bad as his father had made it out to be. "I was supposed to get new thread and cloth. He was very upset."

"That's not - " she cut herself off, looking him up and down suddenly before openly gaping. "You're wet. Did he... did he dump _water_ on you?"

Adrien offered a sheepish smile, trying to hide his shock. Up until yesterday he'd thought Marinette had speech problems because she spoke so rarely, and she'd always seemed so reserved. Now suddenly here she was, animated and speaking with a voice that barely even wavered. The transformation was unexpected but not unwelcome. "To wake me up."

"And you just let him?"

He shrugged somewhat helplessly. "He's my father."

"Fathers aren't supposed to act that way." She spoke with surprising firmness. "My father would _never_ raise his voice with me, even when I burned the bread, because he knew it was a mistake and I was a child."

Adrien shot her a grateful look and she returned a hesitant smile. Then he fully processed what she'd said and frowned. "Burned the bread?"

She blinked at him before her eyes grew round, her whole face becoming suddenly red, and just like that she was back to the shy, stuttering Marinette he knew too well for his liking. "I - I didn't - bread? Why are you so curious about b-bread all of the sudden?"

He considered letting the matter drop since it so obviously made her uncomfortable, but curiosity and suspicion got the best of him. He listed his head, trying to catch her gaze even though she suddenly seemed very focused on her hands. "Maid Marinette, I'm not sure I've ever met your father. Who is he, exactly?"

Her eyes darted around desperately for a moment, searching for an answer. "M-my father? H-he's just - you know, he's a father - I mean, of course he's a _father_ , but also a - he's a..." She trailed off, flailing.

"A baker?" Adrien finished for her gently.

She looked at him in horror for a moment and something in his chest twinged in sympathy. Those pretty eyes looked so wide and she seemed so _lost_ , fumbling for answers she didn't have. _Just like him._ After a moment of gaping at him she buried her face in her hands and groaned. "It was supposed to be a secret." Her voice was muffled by her palms. "Nobody was ever supposed to find out."

He angled himself toward her and wrapped his hands around the delicate columns of her wrists, pulling her hands away and offering her a smile. It only seemed to make her retreat further into herself, though she let him keep holding onto her. "I don't understand. If your father is a baker, how are you here?"

She avoided looking directly at him, her cheeks bright pink with embarrassment. "When they were younger, my parents were servants in the manor. I grew up here."

Adrien's brow furrowed. "Why don't I remember you?"

"Lady Alya favored me as a playmate." Her blush faded for a moment and she actually managed a small chuckle. "She was a very... _possessive_ friend. But protective, too, and endlessly loyal. Eventually my parents were recognized outside the manor for their skill in the kitchens. They left to open the bakery. I stayed at the manor with Lady Alya."

"Why?"

She shrugged, freeing one of her wrists from his grasp and tugging her hood closer to her face subconsciously. "Because my parents wanted me to. They knew it was a better situation for me to grow up here than out in the village." She gave a wry smile. "Lady Alya has convinced them that she'll be able to find me a husband here."

"A husband?" Adrien finally pulled back, startled.

She didn't seem to notice, shooting him a half-formed smile. "It kind of ruins my odds if they find out I'm a baker's daughter right away, don't you think?" _It shouldn't._ He bit back the automatic response that implied an intimacy they didn't even have. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

Even if he'd had a reason to argue, the look she gave him would have destroyed his resolve in an instant. "Of course."

Her half smile became a full one and she stood, running her hands over her skirt to smooth it. His eyes followed the movement and he was reminded of her unusual appearance. "Are you going to see them now?"

She nodded, glancing down the stairs. "I try to sneak out every few fortnights. They don't like it when I do, but I miss them."

Every few fortnights? That was only a handful of times a year. "I don't blame you."

Marinette hesitated awkwardly for a moment before giving him a stiff curtsy. "I hope to see you soon, then. G'day."

"G'day," he returned, somewhat absentmindedly.

He waited until she was down the stairs and out the door before standing, stretching his stiff muscles and absorbing the new information. _Married._ Alya wanted her married. As he stared at a door that had long been closed behind her, he felt something in his stomach twist. It was ridiculous. Her romantic affairs were none of his business. He had no right to care about the fact that the delicate, shy Maid Marinette would soon be on the arm of some pompous nobleman.

But he did.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! So I'm _finally_ off hiatus and writing again! An update for Paper Faces is coming soon, as well ^^ I really hope you guys like this chapter. It's a bit shorter as a result of me trying to get back into the swing of things, but it's got some fun foreshadowing if you guys can catch it. Also, thank you so much for your kind and encouraging comments, they mean the world to me!

* * *

and you once said i wish you dead, you sinner  
i'll never be more than a wolf at your door for dinner  
and if i see you 'round like a ghost in my town, you liar  
i'll leave with your head, no i'll leave you for dead sire

He waited until the darkness had long since settled over the town before slipping out into the comfortable silence, a clear destination in mind. Some households were still awake, forcing him to avoid where the torchlight spilled through open windows, but most were dark. He felt a jolt of surprise when he realized the house he was searching for was not among the majority, emitting a warm glow into the summer night.

Chat approached slowly, claws curling into his palms nervously, and peered through the window of the bakery. The couple inside appeared to be cleaning up after a long day. The woman had Marinette's dark hair and wispy figure, but she was shorter than Chat had expected. The man was so large he was intimidating, though his face was warm and he moved around with a gentle caution. The woman had a smear of flour across her face, but she was so focused on the dishes she was cleaning that she didn't seem to notice. Her husband did, though, and he was quick to sneak up behind her and attack her with a damp rag. Laughter echoed out through the window and Chat slipped farther into the shadows, though a hint of a smile ghosted over his lips.

So these were Marinette's parents. This was her _family._ Watching them, Chat couldn't imagine how she'd been able to leave. How she satisfied herself with only visiting them a handful of times a year in secret. But then he peered closer and noticed that the woman's stature wasn't just willowy, it was practically skeletal. The man, though large, had dark circles under his eyes.

 _Of course._ No one in the village went untouched by the vicious taxes. If Marinette lived with her family, she would be struggling just as much as they were.

Chat's stomach twisted with something that felt dangerously similar to guilt.

A pair of soft footsteps, steady and sure, caught his attention. He swore softly under his breath, though at the same time a smile tugged at his lips. Turning, he leaned back against the bakery with his arms crossed over his chest and met Scarlet's eyes easily. "Can't get enough of me, hm?"

She clearly wasn't in the mood, her expression stormy as her gaze danced between him and the bakery. She seemed unusually agitated, shifting from one foot to the other and pressing her lips together tightly. "What are you doing here, Chat?" Her tone made it sound like if his answer was stealing, he would likely not make it back to the manor that night.

"I could ask _you_ the same question, couldn't I?" He raised his eyebrows and listed his head, ignoring her glower. "Suspecting me is one thing, but stalking me seems a bit unreasonable, don't you think? Though when the stalking is being done by a lady as pretty as yourself, I suppose I can't complain."

She was too distracted to counter his banter or acknowledge the flirtation, her focus on the bakery. After an awkward beat of silence she seemed to realize her mistake, glancing at him abruptly and frowning. "That doesn't answer my question."

Chat sighed dramatically, but beneath his projected ease he felt curiosity growing as Scarlet's eyes were once more drawn toward the bakery. In its soft glow he was struck once again by how blue they were, how wide and observing. The warmth of the candlelight accentuated the angles of her face and made her hair look almost indigo. She really _was_ pretty, though she seemed to ignore him when he tried to say so.

"If you _must_ know, this family happens to be important to me. I was just checking in." He was surprised by how honest the words sounded, even to his own ears. Then he realized it was because they _were_ honest, for once. Scarlet seemed far from satisfied, though, looking at him sharply as if what he'd said was the last thing she'd wanted to hear.

"Why?"

Chat faltered, then flashed her an impish grin. "Because they own the best bakery around, of course. Even a lowly cat like myself has to eat." Her expression faded from alarm to annoyance, and he raised an eyebrow. "Why are they so important to _you?_ "

She looked startled by the question. "They're not."

"You seem awfully distracted by them."

"I'm _not_." Scarlet tapped her foot impatiently. "Listen, if your plans for tonight are to do nothing than mock and accuse me, I'm needed else - "

"They're not." He cut her off, and the unexpected urgency of his tone made him blink. She blinked back.

"What?"

He pushed away from the wall and dropped his arms from his chest, fiddling with his claws. "I need to talk to you."

She swept her gaze over him once before giving a short nod. "Fine. But not here."

He was tempted to push the subject of the bakery and Marinette's parents but decided against it, agreeing wordlessly as he slipped away from the warm light and toward the edge of the village, where the forest loomed almost ominously beneath a blanket of stars. Shadows nipped at their heels the farther they went, but Scarlet didn't seem to mind any more than he did. As they entered the cover of the trees he noticed the way her shoulders became less tense, her expression relaxing from annoyance to indifference and then open curiosity. When at last they reached his destination he paused, hesitated, then glanced over his shoulder at her.

"I've been thinking about your offer."

She wasn't looking at him, her bright blue gaze sweeping around the trees. He shifted uncomfortably, turning toward her, and at last blue clashed with green and she crossed her arms over her chest. "About the people?"

"About the _partnership_ ," he immediately clarified, the word more weighted than he expected it to be. He was used to working alone. Though, thinking about crouching alone in the snow alongside abandoned roads, the idea of joining forces with someone else didn't seem so bad. "If you help me in what I do, I'll give half of what we take to the paupers."

Her eyebrows shot up in open surprise. She took a few steps toward him, pausing only a few feet away. Her eyes were suspicious and searching. "What made you change your mind?"

 _A girl who can almost never see her parents. A woman who looks like she's not eating nearly enough. A man who hardly gets any sleep at night._ But he couldn't say any of that, so instead he let his lips tilt into a crooked smile. "Does it matter?"

"I need to know I can trust you," she insisted.

His smile grew, though his stomach twisted anxiously. "I thought you might say that."

Gesturing for her to follow him, he approached a nearby willow tree. It was ancient, its trunk too big for Chat to wrap his arms around even if there were two of him. The roots were large and twisting. Scarlet peered over his shoulder as he pulled away a sheet of woven grass and leaves, revealing a hollow beneath one of the roots. Even in the darkness, the stolen treasures glittered from inside.

Scarlet leaned closer and let out a breath, though whether it was at the beauty of the trinkets or the fact there were so many, he wasn't sure. After a moment she glanced at him. "Why do you do it?"

"I thought you'd already decided I do it for revenge."

"You said there were other reasons."

He was all too aware of their proximity, even if she didn't seem to notice as much. Her eyes burned into his, intent and persuasive and, worst of all, innocently _curious_. He was tempted to lean in, to press his lips to hers until she couldn't think of anymore questions to ask. He didn't, though. He wanted to, but he didn't. "It's not for revenge," he said softly instead.

Sighing, she drew away from the hollow. Away from _him._ He stood straight and faced her, crossing his arms over his chest. The knot in his stomach was still there, but it had loosened somewhat. He'd given her his offer and his secrets. Now it was her turn to make a decision.

She pressed her lips together tightly and turned away from him a moment. He took advantage of that moment, studying her profile, the curve of her nose, her bright eyes. _Who are you?_ When she turned back her expression already betrayed her answer.

"I'll do it. But you have to swear that half of what we take goes to those who need it. And we have to be stealthier. I won't stand by and watch while you terrorize more helpless noblewomen."

He shoved back a surge of irritation. "I never _terrorize_ them, I'll have you know. I may not be noble myself, but I know how to treat a lady properly."

She raised her eyebrows, unconvinced. "So I'm to believe that you _charmed_ them into doing what you wanted, then?"

 _This_ was familiar ground. No uncomfortable closeness, no sharing secrets. Just exchanging banter, like usual. He relaxed into a wicked grin. "It worked with you, didn't it?"

(o)

"Adrien!"

He was on his way to carry a message to a lord for his father when the voice echoed down the hall at him. Adrien turned to see Alya at the opposite end, beaming at him as she lifted her skirts and broke into a trot to catch up with him. Her eyes were alight with mischief that matched the glittering pendant she always wore at her throat, but he'd learned over the years that for her, such an expression was commonplace.

"I was hoping I'd run into you today." Even for Alya, she seemed unusually upbeat. She looked like a young child did when they first learn some magnificent secret. "I need to ask a favor."

He dipped his head slightly. "Of course. What do you need?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, please, none of that formality. It's just me."

 _Just me._ He almost snorted. Just a noblewoman who could have him stepping up to the gallows in three seconds, give or take. Trying to forget that, he forced his shoulders to relax and offered her a smile. Her face lit up again. "That's better. Now, I need a dress."

Adrien's eyebrows shot up despite himself. " _Another_ one?"

She laughed and swatted at his arm as if the two of them were close friends. "You be quiet. It's not for _me_ this time. It's for Maid Marinette."

"Oh?" Adrien tried to hide the flood of memories that the name brought - holding back tears in a stairwell, watching her parents in the middle of the night, making a deal with Scarlet. If Alya noticed, she was nice enough to not say anything.

"Her birthday is in a little more than a fortnight," she explained. Adrien tilted his head. A dress was an extravagant gift, even for a best friend. Seeing his expression, Alya pressed on wish a slight flush. "I know it's a bit of an _unusual_ request, but she's too shy to ever ask for dresses of her own, and - "

Adrien held up his hand and stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You don't have to make excuses. I know about Marinette's situation." She blinked at him, clearly startled. Surprise quickly was replaced by protectiveness, but he pushed on before she could make a threat. "I don't care who her parents are. Marinette deserves the life that you're trying to give her. It's a good thing that you're doing."

She continued to eye him warily for a moment, then abruptly drew away and sighed. "That's why I need _you_ to make this dress and not your father. As long as people assume that Marinette has _some_ nobility in her, she'll have a chance."

"A chance at what?"

"Marriage." Alya looked at him as if it were obvious. He nodded, but his stomach twisted uncomfortably, remembering his conversation with Marinette the previous day. He trusted Alya to find someone who at least wouldn't mistreat her friend, but Marinette deserved more than that. She deserved someone who legitimately cared about her as much as she seemed to care about the world. "In a new dress, she'll be too beautiful to resist."

"She already _is_ beautiful." He said it without thinking, and immediately after felt his face heat up. He scrambled to continue before Alya could put too much weight on his words. "You must be hoping to really dress her up. For a party, I'm guessing?"

Alya nodded. "A ball, in honor of her birthday. The dress will need to be truly stunning, Adrien. Can I trust you with it?"

He pressed his lips together uncertainly. He'd never made a dress without his father's supervision before. But for Marinette? He could at least try. "Yes. It won't be much of a surprise, though. She'll have to come in for measurements."

Alya wilted for a moment, then stood up again and waved her hand dismissively. "That's fine. I'll send word to you about a time. It needs to be done quickly, though." She leaned in and lifted a hand to the side of her mouth, her expression bright with mischief again. "There's a visiting lord who's taken interest in her. Nathanael. He's set to leave before the next moon, and if we're lucky he'll be taking Marinette with him."

Adrien really did try to look upbeat at the news. He'd seen Lord Nathanael and had no immediate oppositions. The lord was young and seemed gentle enough. But the idea of Marinette being taken _away_ hurt more than he expected it to. He wanted to disagree with Alya, to say that Nathanael was all wrong for Marinette and she should keep looking.

He had a feeling, though, that there would never be a lord who would be truly worthy of her.


	4. Important Note

Hey guys! I know, I know, it's been _way_ too long, and I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting on updates. I really appreciate those of you that have stuck with me through my long period of silence - I cannot thank you enough for continuing to support an author who's stopped giving. It means the world to me.

I've got news for you, and it may be good or bad depending on how you look at it. After a long, _long_ period of research and plotting, I've made the very terrifying decision to continue this fic. However, there are two parts to this decision that you should know.

1\. I am completely dedicating myself to this and only this Robin Hood!AU, with the exception of maybe a oneshot here and there. Does that mean I'm completely abandoning my other stories, like _Paper Faces_? For now, yes. Permanently? That's to be decided, depending on how I feel once I finish this AU (which I _am_ determined to do).

2\. I'm starting over. I know, I know, I'm sure it's really frustrating to those who have been following this exact story and want to see it continue to move forward just as it is. Unfortunately, as I was plotting I realized there's no way to get where I want to go without starting off with a clean slate. It's still the same premise - Chat Noir is our main character, our beloved criminal, and Ladybug will be the one to pull him out of the dark. The new story I'll posting does not yet have a name (eep! I know, I'm running out of time!) _but_ I can assure you that it will be posted under this account on **Saturday, January 14th.** I will then continue to update the story regularly with a new chapter every Saturday.

Thanks for sticking with me, guys, and I look forward to writing for you again very soon!


	5. Final Note

The new story is up! It's under the title **Dark as Gold**. Again, updates will be made every Saturday. I'll keep this fic up for another couple of days and then take it down. I hope you all enjoy the updated story!


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